


Downfallen, Fallen, Falling

by Pine



Series: Downfallen [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pine/pseuds/Pine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Submission is the sweetest thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downfallen, Fallen, Falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).



> Post season 1 setting. Not season 2 compliant.

Derek found himself chained to metal posts. Bare feet against the wooden floor. Bare back against the concrete wall. He tried to look around as much as his body would let him, neck chained, as was his waist, arms, and legs. It seemed excessive. It really was. It made sure he would not be able to move around… as if the poison was not enough.

It was an abandoned house of some sort. It seemed to be a very isolated place, possibly in the middle of the woods if he interpreted the smell right. But it was nothing like the woods in Beacon Hills. A small window on the side was open. The moonlight was blinding. His arms felt tired, but he couldn’t feel any pain. The sound of the rustling leaves was louder than it was supposed to be, even with his hearing. It was deafening.

None of his senses was working quite well as of the moment.

He was sure of these things though: He wasn’t in Beacon Hills.  _(No sign of the pack. Where was he?)_  He was unconscious for a few hours.  _(Not wolfsbane. Different. Paralyzing, though not completely.)_  Peter did this.  _(He should have killed Peter again when he had the chance. He shouldn’t have risked it.)_

Stiles was nowhere in sight.  _(Fuck it Peter, he’s **mine**.)_

—

He waited for an hour or so. It was difficult to pull off, almost impossible, but never did he not have a contingency plan. It took time. It took patience. It took energy.

He sat there in front of his catch. Straddling the chair, arms crossed over the chair’s back, Peter Hale admired the scene before him. Stiles’ body was chained against the wall, clothes draped awkwardly against the binding. The chains were tight enough to contain a human, loose enough for Peter to move to the chains around. 

If he were to succeed  _(when he succeeds…)_  it would be worth it.

He listened to the steady beating of Stiles’ heart and waited for him to wake up. With the way Stiles’s mouth moved and his forehead creased, it wouldn’t be long…

“Hello, Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyes opened wide, almost comically, barring the current circumstances. ‘What now?’ He expressed without actually saying a word.  _(Because he couldn’t. Mouth taped over. Peter needed it that way… for now.)_

Peter wanted to explain. There were, in fact, many things that he wanted to say right there and then. Of course, it wasn’t the right time or the right place to do it. Patience was key. And from the expression on Stiles’ face, he was sure his efforts would be worth it.

“Did you miss me?” Peter asked even though the teenager would not be able to answer him back. He got a glare in return. “No?” He watched Stiles for any other reaction, “Not even a little bit?” Stiles simply continued to glare at him.

At this, Peter smirked. He settled for comfortable silence, watching the teenager look around the bare room  _(observing, searching…)_  and test the chains that bound him to the wall. “Even Derek won’t be able to release himself from that binding.” Stiles didn’t seem to care. But there was worry  _(about Derek, possibly)_. A hint of panic  _(regarding his and Derek’s safety)_. Stiles struggled anyway.

“He’s fine,” Peter informed him, “I won’t hurt the only family I have left.” After a second, Stiles calmed down minutely. “Speaking of Derek…”

A low growl echoed from the room next to theirs. It was weak, but it was loud enough for even Stiles to react to the sound. Chin up, steadying heartbeat.

“He’s awake.” Stiles let go of the breath he’d been holding. Worry subsided a bit; calm took over. It wasn’t a surprising reaction. Peter knew Stiles was a bit more attached to Derek than the teen would like to acknowledge.  _(And it was something he had to fix.)_

He could hear the chains in the other room being pulled. But he still had a few hours. No need to worry about his nephew now.

The human though. That was the problem.

Peter stood up from the chair, went to Stiles, and removed the tape over Stiles’ mouth.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked.  _(Did he really need to ask?)_

“You know what I want.”

“I don’t.”  _(It was a lie.)_

“Do you want me to say it?” Peter moved closer and licked Stiles’ lips, “You.”

Stiles didn’t speak, lips tightly closed together. Peter could see the shields Stiles was putting up. _(Legs closed as much as possible. Hands in fists. Wrists turned. Eyes narrowed.)_

Peter simply stood in front of Stiles. Stiles continued to look at him, chin up, eyes defiant.  _(Why won’t you let me have you?)_ It amused him. Peter knew that Stiles knew what it would mean if he lowered his head or avoided his stare. He wondered how long it would take for Stiles to realize such efforts were useless. He played this game before, and never once was he the first to break.

“Give in.”

“No matter how many times you ask…” ( _It’s been 6.)_  “My answer’s still the same.”

_(Your lips say no, yet…)_

“Tell me, Stiles, which of your answers should I believe?”

Dead silence.

A minute or so passed. Peter could see the boy’s eyes getting dry. It won’t be long before their contact breaks. Stiles’ head turned to the side, just minutely, but enough to break eye contact for a brief second. Blinked. Twice. Long lashes moved, fluttered  _(if he was allowed to call it that)_. Head turned back to face him again. Peter saw the defiance in the eyes slowly crumble away.

Peter opened his mouth to speak. He found he didn’t need to.

He didn’t miss the way Stiles’ eyes followed the movement of his lips, nor the way Stiles’ own lips parted in response. The teenager swallowed before leveling his eyes with Peter again. Still resisting. Still lying.

Peter stepped closer, enough for him to feel Stiles’ breath across his face. His mouth was just an inch away, “Give in.”

He heard Stiles swallow hard.

Peter closed his eyes and let his other senses guide him. Lips traced Stiles’ jaw line, down to the neck, to the collarbone. A flick of tongue. A hint of a kiss. Slowly. Painfully slow. He had an urge to make it quick, impatience tempered only by the teenager’s uneven breathing.

Delayed gratification: pleasure of the best kind.

From the other room he could hear his nephew’s threats and murderous growl, but ignored them in favor of the quickening heartbeats of the human in front of him. He stepped back just to have a good look at Stiles, before moving forward again, further pinning Stiles against the cold concrete wall. Peter carefully pulled down the chains holding the teen’s arms, consequently pulling Stiles upward and forcing him to stand on his toes. Peter placed his right knee between the small space between Stiles’ thighs, forcing them to widen the gap, spreading Stiles’ legs further. He yanked down the chain, pulling the Stiles further up, making the teen grunt in pain.

He removed his knee and positioned his thighs where his knees were. Losing contact with the ground, Stiles’ legs dangle on Peter’s sides. Satisfied, Peter let go of the chains and placed his hands on Stiles’ thighs, making the teenager wrap his legs around Peter’s waist and straddle him.

Stiles shivered. The wolf inside Peter liked it.

It amused him, how Stiles moved his arms in an attempt to loosen the chains… or maybe it was to hit Peter. The older man didn’t really care. Stiles forced to move his legs to unwrap them from Peter’s waist.

Still resisting.

The werewolf smirked and moved back a bit, just enough for gravity to make Stiles slide down, just enough for their crotch to be against each other’s. From the blush across Stiles’ cheeks, this resistance, clearly failing.

“Really, Stiles. You should know better than that.”

“Why me?”

_(Because you are my obsession. ~~In the darkness, a flicker of light.~~ )_

“Because I like you, Stiles.” He closed his eyes as his forehead touched Stiles’.

“Do you want the bite?” He traced the soft under skin of Stiles’ wrist with his claw, before pressing his right forefinger and middle finger where the pulse was.

“I don’t want it.” Stiles finally spoke, voice strong and firm. Peter didn’t even need to hear Stiles’ heartbeat. The pulse was enough.

It was a conversation begging to be repeated.

“You know what I heard?” Peter asked. Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed upon realization.

“My… My heart slightly beating faster over the words ‘Do,’ ‘Not,’ ‘Want,’” Stiles said in an almost accepting whisper.

Peter smirked. With one hand still on Stiles’ wrist, he placed his other hand on Stiles’ chest. He stepped back, letting Stiles’ feet reach the floor again. “That’s why I like you Stiles.” A sharp claw slowly tore Stiles’ shirt downward, leaving a red mark on the teenager’s chest.

“And I really…” Stiles’ pants unbuttoned.

“do…” Unzipped.

“like you.” Pulled down.

Stiles shivered; cool air in the room against raw skin. No sound through human lips; Stiles was uncharacteristically silent. Peter removed his hands from Stiles’ body and took a few steps backward. He admired the view from an arm’s length. Stiles looked panicked, but Peter ignored it. It was the arousal and low him of anticipation that he picked up and concentrated on.

Peter stretched an arm forward and touched the chest of the nearly naked teenager. His claws were withdrawn, palm wide open. Just skin against skin. He could feel the heat.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles.”

He moved close, both hands now holding Stiles’ hips. He buried his nose in Stiles’ neck, taking in the scent. He then licked his chapped lips, blew softly in Stiles’ ear, and sucked Stiles’ earlobe lightly.

“Do you want me to persuade you?”

—

Derek didn’t stop from yanking the chains, from trying to free himself. The poison was wearing off, but it was too slow for his need. With every protest Stiles made, conviction - his words failed. The truth lingered in the background; Stiles’ heart can’t lie.

The sound of fabric being torn echoed; his enhanced hearing brought him no consolation.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles.” Stiles’ heartbeat spiked. Derek growled, and Stiles’ heart beat steadied for a second or two. He didn’t like it one bit.

Then, a gasp. A stifled moan.

Derek went still. After a beat, he tried to free himself from the chains, pulling as hard as he could. For all the strength that he could muster at the moment, it was not enough. He growled in frustration. It was a useless gesture. He heard Peter laugh, mocking. It was not because of Stiles, he was sure.

“Do you want me to persuade you?” Peter asked. Derek could hear the smugness in his tone. It was for a reason Derek wished weren’t true.

“No.” Stiles finally answered.

 _‘Yes.’_  Derek heard.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at [Tumblr](http://cadetpine.tumblr.com/post/29375070689).


End file.
